


Vous êtes mon cœur

by fuckedupisperfect



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, hudmels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 05:20:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckedupisperfect/pseuds/fuckedupisperfect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt's the only light sleeper in the Hudmel family. Whenever something wakes him in the middle of the night, he tiptoes into both bedrooms containing his sleeping family just to check their heartbeats.</p><p>(Fill for a prompt.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vous êtes mon cœur

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to import this here as well even if it's old. Filled for a [prompt](http://glee-angst-meme.livejournal.com/22143.html?thread=15388031&). Title from [this song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eey_cMshtyA).

It was one of those dreams where, all of a sudden, you feel a falling sensation. You wake up and you don't remember if you were walking down a set of stairs or running down a hill until you take a misstep and start to fall. There's only the past visuals of feet you are looking at, or just the memory of black that had already met you before stumbling. And sometimes, there's just no memory at all. All there is is the moment before you fall asleep to the moment you wake up, and suddenly after that, there's a dark room all around you with your eyes open, and you are too scared to move a muscle for a few seconds. Terrified to close your eyes lest you open them to find nothing again. Or the floor.   
  
It was the floor for Kurt when he woke up. Immediately sitting up after he had tripped in the blurry, fuzzy semblance of sleep, he tried to still his breathing. His heart was racing and his mouth was open as he pushed himself off the floor, wiping at his eyes with the heel of his hand and stepping over the blanket that went down with him. He tiptoed out of his room and walked through the hallway, still feeling like he was in a dream.  
  
There were other dreams that started like that. He'd be walking in the dark and something, someone would creep out of it and do something to him. Scary things, he's sure of it. When he woke up from nightmares he always ended up on the floor. He could explain those bruises easily.  
  
The fog of sleep slowly melted away as he felt his way around, hand pressing against the wall. He felt around until he got to a door (poster edges, check), opened it, and walked into Finn's room. It was always his room he went into first because sometimes Finn was endearingly too stupid to live.   
  
"Hey," he whispered into the dark. Finn had left his curtains open so a few stars lit the room - not much, but enough to see the outline of a gigantic lump of a-skewed limbs underneath a thin blanket covered in red trucks. Kurt still gives Finn shit about that choice of decorum. (Finn gets him back by reminding him of his Power Rangers sleeping bag he keeps tucked away in the corner of his closet.)  
  
"Finn," he said again, but a little lower. He dragged out the name as he crept closer to Finn. He sat on the floor, back to Finn's bed, and leaned his head backwards to look at the ceiling filled with glowing stars. (Finn hadn't needed a stool to stick those up. Carole told him that she was so relieved to have a human ladder at her house when she was single because she couldn't afford a trip to the hospital for herself if she had any missteps when trying to reach tall places.) Kurt sat there for a few more minutes just humming under his breath and not really thinking about anything, just hearing the gentle snores of the giant that kept shifting on the bedsheets above him.  
  
Kurt was also surprised about that - he had expected Finn to snore loud enough to wake the dead the first time he moved in. Finn's snoring kicked in after a couple of hours of sleep Kurt had found. The snoring subsided more when there were Ohio crickets around, which only happened when they slept outside, thank God. (If bugs entered the home as well as a new family then Kurt would have gone absolutely insane.)  
  
The first time they slept in the same area after The Basement Incident was when Finn had convinced him to sleep outside. No tent, just sleeping bags (Kurt was lucky to have that, he was told, since they would normally only have some sort of mat to sleep on to get as close to nature as possible - a man's manly attempt to connect to his sentimental/Neanderthal side he supposed, it was actually a thinly veiled attempt for them to bond, which Kurt...was okay with).  
  
One crack of a twig underneath a cat's paw, or the howl of the wind whisking leaves through trees at night was enough to wake Kurt from his light slumber, and enough for him to turn over in his sleeping bag and scoot closer to Finn's and feel his heart thumping through the warm fabric, to know he wasn't in some sort of cruel limbo or stuck in his dreams where no one hears you scream and no one will move out of the way when there's a pair of lights speeding towards you even though you try to push them out of the way but your feet are stuck and you cannot move and cannot speak and your head won't turn until the only thing that jerks you out of the scene is falling forward from your seat and into reality where the cold floor pressed against your cheek will only greet you.   
  
In his earlier days, he had woken up from a bad dream and always had his mother and father to fall back onto. Cuddle underneath the comforting blankets and presence, one arm tucked into one warm side and the other grasped by another hand, with the whispers of, "It's okay, you can sleep. I am here. No one's going to hurt you."   
  
("Just listen to your mother, Kurt. She knows all about monsters. She's fought them all, every single one."

"Burt. That's violent."

"No, listen up to me, kid. She was armed with a flashlight and she whacked them upside the head."

"Burt."

"She hit them with the  _light_. Not the actual flashlight - jeez, Liz, did you think I was telling him to hit people with tangible things? Things that would leave bruises and would make other parents call us up? You hit them with words, right? Hit the other dumbass parents with those too -"

"You still seem to be missing the point here, Burt…"

"Dad, you're being too loud."

"Louder than the lightning, honey."

"This is about the storm? I thought we were still weaning Kurt off of monsters!"

"Go to sleep, honey.")  
  
There was also the occasional conversation related to monsters and flashlights and horses, but that usually died down into even breaths. Kurt might have fooled them with his closed eyes, but it took more for him to fall asleep. He'd burrow into his parents' arms and chests and press his ear against the spot that would make them come alive again after falling asleep, the gentle  _lub dub, thump thump_  heartbeat that told him all he needed to know. What he needed to know it was safe enough to close his eyes so that when he opened them again, they'd still be there and whatever was making him scared would be gone.  
  
  
Something thumped harder than a heartbeat. Kurt woke with a jolt, his neck a bit stiff from him falling asleep against Finn's bed-frame and looking upward. It was a bit brighter in Finn's room now since the moon made a dim appearance through a few clouds. A sliver of light brushed though the room, giving Kurt a bright view of a brown freckle on his arm. And on the alarm clock Finn managed to knock over with his arm when he must have been turning over to the other side of the bed (but his arm was still on the other side... Kurt long stopped trying to figure out how Finn got any sleep at all - he sometimes thought Finn dreamed about chasing cars and cats, but he knew he mostly dreamed about getting tail... Kurt sometimes cursed his inability to sleep through everything).  
  
Kurt quickly got up and fixed the clock, as well as the alarm ( _Finn Hudson: too stupid to wake up early enough to get ready for school without biting anyone's head off_ ), and tiptoed out of his room. The hallway was bright enough for him to see his way without touching the walls with the stairway window shining more of the moon upon the house.   
  
He found his way into another room. The curtains were closed but various lights from technology (red, green, blue from the television, clock, and others) helped him continue his journey from being a dark silhouette in the doorway to a child nearing his parents' bed. Dad and Mom.  _Mom and Dad_. It felt good to hear those names in his head again. Just Dad was enough, then it was very good, then it was all he had in the world. And now it's joined by two other people that make his house a home, and he can't fathom living without them.   
  
His hand hovered over his dad's shoulder as his gaze went over their bodies. Burt and Carole were facing each other in bed. They sometimes wore twin smiles, but most of the time had their mouths open, drool, legs kicking each other, and hair or hands covering their faces. They didn't look picture perfect like that, but it was a perfect sign of having sleep and being able to tolerate sleeping with someone again.   
  
There were so many things Kurt had wanted to say in these moments when he would check their still beating hearts in the silence of night, but he couldn't get them out. It was easier when his father had lain there in his hosp - no, it wasn't. It was never easy to tell him everything he was feeling. He couldn't always lie to him, but he couldn't always tell the truth either. But he would like to live long enough to get the courage to.  
  
Maybe one day he could tell his dad when he was awake how glad he was that he didn't give up on him when his mother died, when he asked him to join his tea party, when he wanted a car, when he had a boyfriend, when he had his life threatened. When he was young and he felt guilt or embarrassment or sorrow, his mother would confront him and let him know there was nothing that would stop her from loving him with her whole heart. Sometimes he just needed a little reinforcement to remember that.  
  
His hand curled around his dad's wrist, feeling the pulse jump into his fingers. He moved around to Carole's side of the bed (she had moved to lie on her back, mouth closed, arm trapped underneath Burt's) and rested his hand over her palm before resting it over her wrist. He wasn't young enough to leap into their bed, but he was old enough to want to, with adult fear and teenage angst and a penchant for waking up alone at the slightest quake. But as he slipped back into his own bed, he managed to fall back asleep with the memory of their hearts beating and the dull throb of a mouth forming  _you are my heart_.


End file.
